A Foggy Morning

Our deep blue sky is shrouded in fog.  It is as if the whole planet (or at least our little corner of it) has been covered with a layer of silver grey gauze.

It is silent and thick and changes my world view.  Suddenly my gaze is shortened.  There is mystery out here.    I am alone in a quietly mystical world.  

I am cocooned in nature and silence and thought.  Shhhh, perhaps if I continue to stay quiet the sun won't come in and steal the fog away. 

"Let us go in, the fog is rising" 

 Emily Dickinson

Feeling Grey

I don't know whether its because we've had a lot of grey, overcast days interspersed with rain lately -- or because many of my morning walks seem to be into the fog -- but I've become smitten with the color grey.

I feel myself being drawn to these misty, soft shades of grey with perhaps a little bit of soft blue or lavender thrown in.  Usually this is a light, bright tones time of the year - but I keep thinking of the softness of grey and its counterparts and I am drawn into its mystery and magic.

Recently I went to a Quilt Shop Hop where I seriously looked for grey fat quarters and the other day I spent a beautiful hour in the "Asheville Cotton" store where I searched out shades of grey to add to my collection.

I'm not sure what I'll do with all these fog, mist, ocean, clouds, steam, smoke shades but here they lay ready and waiting.

The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Carl Sandburg

Winter's Grey

There was a fog all over the forest - slipping in amongst the trees.  It always seems so magical to me, like a veil dropped over familiar sights making them less clear.  Fog seems to soften everything.

This fog brought thoughts to me about this time of the year - the winter colors (or non-colors) of grey and white, of silver and black.  A time when the color spectrum seems to be narrowed down to only a few shades.

I've gathered together some floss which will somehow make itself into a winter homage.  I haven't yet decided just how this will happen or what I will do with it but I know that I will celebrate this time of the year when bears hibernate and people do too.  When I snuggle down in my studio and put hand to stitches.

The fog comes on little cat feet.

It sits looking over harbor and city

on silent haunches and then moves on. - Carl Sandberg

Into The Fog

I love the misty fog that has been gracing our hilltop these mornings. The cool damp air touches my skin like a balm against what will later become a warm southern day. It is bliss to start off on these walks up the hill with the forest surrounding me.






The forests in this area are very dense at this time of the year. From the ground up it is difficult to see further than a few feet into the deeply shadowed understory. The fog then tends to blur the view even more, like organdy fabric over everything. This all seems to make the forest itself even more mysterious. There is life in there, deep in the green depths of the woods. There are animals - deer, bear, bobcats, turkeys, squirrels, rabbits all living out their lives quietly unaware of me (unless I startle them). There are snakes and frogs and all manner of insects. There are spiders gently weaving their webs in amongst the foliage. Perhaps there are even elves and fairies hidden within - peeking timidly out to see what stranger is passing by. I hope I don't startle them as I am only passing by, enjoying their view and their solitude on this foggy morning walk.

"Derive happiness in oneself from a good day's work, from illuminating the fog that surrounds us". - Henri Matisse